flanks elegantly waved with large semi-circles of pale brown; sides of the vent, pure white; under tail coverts black; back, deep brown with black, each feather waved with large semi-ovals of brownish white; lesser wing coverts, a bright blue; primaries, dusky brown; secondaries, black; speculum or beauty spot, rich green; tertials, edged with black or light blue and streaked down their middle with white; the tail, which is pointed, extends two inches beyond the wings; legs and feet, yellow, the latter very small; the two crescents of white before the eyes meet on the throat. The female differs in having the head and neck of a dull dusky slate, instead of the rich violet of the male; the hind of head is also whitish; the wavings of the back and lower parts more indistinct. Wing nearly the same in both. CHAPTER V. SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. (ON THE MISSISSIPPI.) If thou would'st enjoy sport, such as thou hast never ONE of the most successful ways of shooting wild fowl on the Mississippi River is from a scull boat. It is rare sport, and enjoyed by comparatively few, especially when one takes into consideration the number who hunt these birds, and the various means they employ to hunt with any degree of success. It has always been to me a matter of great surprise, that more sportsmen have not hunted in this manner. Experienced duck hunters-men who have passed their entire lives among the aquatic tribe, who are versed in, and filled to completion with duck lore, who know their instincts, habits, breeding places, and resorts, and who can almost read them in mid-air, forming instantaneously a correct opinion as to where they are flying and what may be their intentions; men who know how to hunt them morning, midday and evening, spring and fall; amid the willows, among the tall oaks, hidden in the marsh securely from view, by the tall waving and nodding wild rice, shooting them from out-jutting points, under their line of light, seductively coaxing them from their high flight, with plaintive call and deceitful decoys, knocking them right and left, as they circle over the yellow and golden fiel?!; of corn, or killing them in mid winter, as they come into the air-holes covered with decoys and tempting bait. And still, these men with all their experience have never hunted them from a sculling boat. Duck hunting is no childish sport. When mild, pleasant weather, gentle, soothing winds, gurgling, murmuring brooks, sweet-smelling, delicate, fragrant flowers invite us out for a day to the woods or beside the streams, where in indolence we lie, half waking, then lulled into a lazy slumber by the sighing winds, or warbling thrush, or kept awake by the cawing crow, as it flies over our heads in its accustomed straight line, or the laughing jay, as it teeters on the tip of some tall tree, industriously yelling at us because of our intrusion, --such scenes as these we all recall. They are bright spots, oases in the desert of our lives. But the duck season, as the reader well knows, is not at such a time, but entirely the opposite. It seems as if at such times, the elements combine to disgust and discourage the hunter. And yet, a person experiences so many pleasant days while duck shooting, that it seems. as though the elements have been so impartial, that we are not justified in complaining. It is but natural then, having to hunt at a time of the year when we can but expect cold and inclement weather, we should lighten our burdens when possible, and accept the advantage where offered. And now I want you, my reader, to go with me for but a day. A day isn't long in your life of years. You can readily recall not one, but many passed with Nature. Grant me your time and presence but for a brief day, and together we will go, and you shall see much that will be new to you. You shall see how ducks are killed from a scull boat. You promise to go. Your gun is a 10 ga., weighing 10 lbs. Leave all to me ; you are to be my guest for the occasion, and I propose to treat you as a distinguished one, choosing to provide all the necessaries for the trip, and promising you a very pleasant one, should the weather be auspicious. We will use the same shells, loaded 4 1-2 dms. powder, well wadded, and 1 1-8 ozs. No. 6 shot; but I shall put into our box plenty of No. 8's,-for should the ducks decoy well, the shells will come handy, in fact, just the size; while if they are wild, the 8's will do nicely for cripples. Bring your hip rubber boots with you; they may be needed, not that I think they will be, as the boat will be perfectly dry, plenty of hay in the bottom, and loose fitting shoes, or felt boots will be warmer, and much more comfortable. You can throw your long boots under the bow, and should it so happen, as it frequently does, that we run across some pond, overflowed place, or bayou, where ducks are feeding, we will want them to retrieve our birds. Yes! I don't doubt it; am willing to admit he is an excellent retriever. Still, we don't want your dog along, for our shooting will be almost, if not entirely, from the boat, and he would simply be in the way. Better lose a few ducks, than to have him wet and muddy constantly climbing in on the dry hay, splashing mud over ourselves and guns, and disarranging, or perhaps completely knocking, our blind from off the bow. I don't doubt but it seems strange to you to hunt ducks without a dog, but rest assured, it's the correct way in scull boat shooting, as your experience will prove before our return. My sack of mallard decoys we will throw on the bow when we start out. Don't know as we will need them-may be not; really don't think we will, but on the bow, in an old dirty coffee-sack, they are not conspicuous; and if noticed at all, have the grim appearance of the butt of an old log, or decayed stump, and they serve in no small degree as a blind. I would as soon think of going on a trip from home without change of collars and cuffs, as to think of going hunting in my scull boat without decoys. They are to me as much a part of my outfit, as my boots, coat, indeed, as anything, except my gun. Early the next morning we start by train, going up the Mississippi from Clinton, 18 or 20 miles. Through the courtesy of the conductor, our boat and luggage is carried in the baggage car, and we are put off the train midway between stations, at the point requested. The train moves swiftly along, and you and I are on the banks of the Mississippi, whose swift flowing current runs so quietly at our feet. The day is an ideal one. Had we power to have se lected it, our choice would have been just such a day. 'Tis fall; and the frequent rains in the North have overflowed the Black, the Wisconsin, the Chippewa, and numerous small rivers all pouring vast floods into the Father of Waters. The river has steadily risen. Sandbars are covered; lowlands submerged. The narrow channels have been filled, until, between the marked shores, distinct by the aid of tall trees and overhanging willows, the eye beholds one vast sea of water. Notice the boat at our feet! no skiff, no float, no punt, but the graceful elegance of her outline attracts your admiration at once. If I have pride in her appearance, it is a pardonable one, for she is new; only |